


Smoke on the Water

by firefly124



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: Why was everything moving?  Did he have a head injury?  Well, yeah, probably.  But the rocking sensation didn’t feel like other concussions he’d had, and the sound of water was definitely not usually part of it.





	Smoke on the Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/gifts).



“Dean! Dean!” 

Cas’ voice sounded like it was coming from a million miles away. Why was it so dark? Oh, eyes closed. Yeah, that’d do it. Dean tried to pry them open, then decided that was a bad idea because _bright light_.

Two fingers were pressed against his forehead and, oh, that’s what that other sensation was. Pain. Dean groaned, even as it was ebbing.

Why was everything moving? Did he have a head injury? Well, yeah, probably. But the rocking sensation didn’t feel like other concussions he’d had, and the sound of water was definitely not usually part of it.

“Where?” he managed.

“Houghton’s Pond,” Sam said. “Nuckalavee, remember?”

Evil horse thing. Right. Evil horse thing that belonged in the ocean in Scotland, not some random pond in Massachusetts attacking skiers.

That explained the smoke smell in the crisp air. They’d decided to try the burning seaweed thing the lore suggested, but amped up a bit with a bit of holy oil mixed in.

“Worked?”

“Like a charm,” Sam replied. “You got the circle finished, but it lashed out before you could light it.”

Hence the head injury. And probably knee. Definitely ribs. Still, nothing he hadn’t had before.

Dean pushed ineffectually at Cas’ hand. “Save your mojo.”

“You almost _died_ , Dean,” Cas said sharply. The fingers moved, but now it was Cas’ whole hand against the side of his face. “I’ve only just managed to repair the worst of the damage to your internal organs, particularly your _brain_.”

Oh. Dean decided to stop fighting and nestled into the warm fabric they’d wrapped him in. He reached out to grab part of it and pull it over himself more only to realize it was Cas’ trenchcoat. That probably meant the warm pillow under his head was … he forced himself to look up.

Yep. He was lying on Cas’ lap. And this was definitely _not_ the start of one of his more fun dreams. He almost never started those out concussed. He scrunched his eyes closed again.

“We still don’t know what it was doing here,” Sam continued. “It shouldn’t even be able to be in fresh water.”

Just one more thing to add to the list of weird they’d been running into. Dean found he couldn’t bring himself to care about it right now. Right now he was toasty warm and only inches away from … whoops. He tried to sit up.

Cas held him in place with little effort. Dean really wished that didn’t turn him on as bad as it did.

“You’re not moving until we get to land,” the angel said. His tone was probably the one he used to use for commanding a garrison of angels. Disobedience was not an option.

Dean gulped. Yeah, that had an effect, too. He stopped struggling, but he was still worried. Concussion meant he wasn’t sure his filter was working right now.

“It’s not,” Sam said. “So if you could shut up, that would be great.”

Minutes or hours later, Dean felt a thunk that he presumed meant they’d made it to the shore.

“I’ll get out first, then you pass him over,” Sam said.

“Mfine,” Dean mumbled. But the way his knees almost gave out when Cas propped him up to stand suggested he might not know what he was talking about.

He felt like a rag doll or a puppet with its strings cut as Cas and Sam wrangled him out of the boat and slung one of his arms over each of their shoulders. Dean forced his eyes open so he could at least see where they were going, even if he obviously wasn’t going to be in the driver’s seat. Turned out they were facing the water.

The circle of burning seaweed had gone out, but the smoke still hovered low over the water, which looked like someone had spilled ink in it.

“We sure it’s dead?” Dean asked.

“Decapitation is generally an effective method,” Cas said. “If it returns, we will have to try alternate means.”

Dean winced at the word. Felt like the thing had tried to decapitate _him_ , and from what little he remembered, that was probably true.

“Sgo home,” he mumbled.

“We are not driving to Kansas right now,” Sam huffed. “We’ll get back to the motel though.”

Dean tightened his grip on Cas’ shoulder.

“I am not going anywhere,” Cas said softly. “And we can discuss your … unfiltered ramblings when you have recovered.”

Dean smiled, or tried to, as they reached his Baby and poured him into the backseat, Cas quickly joining him and encouraging him to lie as he had been in the boat. Nice as that sounded, Dean wasn’t ready to lie back down. He looked back towards the Pond. The smoke over the water was barely visible now.

He let himself be convinced to lie down as Sam cleared his throat and started the engine. The radio came on full blast on the oldies station Dean had found earlier. Dean let his eyes close as Cas cradled his face again and resumed healing him, drifting with the music.


End file.
